Yellow Dog/Bleeding Heart

The other afternoon a younger co-worker told me goodbye. "Goodbye," I replied, and then, in my mind I heard the phrase, "Be a good girl!" At first I wasn't sure where that came from, but it triggered the memory that my mother always added that phrase after telling me goodbye. "Bye! Be a good girl," she would call as I went out the door to kindergarten. The same phrase followed me even into adulthood. I guess my mom felt it was important for me to be a "good girl" and she programmed that into me from day one. My mom meant well, but there were repercussions. I tried so hard to be a good girl that I never made waves. Even during those years when I had pink hair and spent my days sleeping and my nights at punk rock gigs I still did my very best to be a good girl. I was such a good girl that I married because it was the "right" thing to do and stayed in an unhappy marriage for almost a decade. I try very hard not to program unhealthy not...

My feelings for designer shoes run pretty close to my feelings for Hummers. That is, why on earth does anyone want to spend that kind of money on an item that's primary purpose is it's functionality? Shoes are nothing more than protection for your feet - warm in winter, off the burning pavement in summer. That, and protecting you soles from being impaled by sharp objects is the entire job of your footwear. Oh, but "looking good is their job too!" you say? All I can say is that for a girl, I am pretty guy- ish about my footwear. I don't wear cheaply made shoes and I don't wear uncomfortable shoes. That pretty much sums up my shoe criteria. Oh yeah, I also don't like much colour in my footwear. Pretty much, a good pair of black and a decent pair of brown can complete my shoe wardrobe requirements. Throw in a cool pair of kicks for spontaneous sports-like activity (should I ever decide to indulge in such a thing) and a fantastic pair of riding boots and I am...

I have been missing my mom a lot lately. She was always able to make everything better. All I ever had to do was call and tell her I needed her and she would be right there. Usually, her first solution to any ailment, be it the fever or flu; grief or exhaustion; was to “go lay down.” What was great about this was that while you slept she whipped your daily life back into shape. She did the dishes. She folded the laundry. (The woman could fold anything you gave her into a perfect 10 X 10 square - e ven f itted sheets !) She would also clean out your fridge and organize your pantry - whether it needed it or not - all before bathing and feeding the kids. Then, most importantly, she made you a grilled cheese sandwich. Yup. Good old fashioned grilled cheese. Wheat bread and cheddar. Generously buttered and perfectly grilled to a nice even tan. To this day I have never had a grilled cheese that came even close to comparing to my mom’s. I think it was really all about just letting someone ...

So I've been shopping for a gift for my infant nephew and I realised something: I am completely a "Brand Loyal" type person. I probably get this from all those years as I child that I grocery shopped with my mom. Need tomato sauce? Hunts is the only one that will do. Canned vegetables? That would be Del Monte. Crackers or cookies? Those Keebler elves get the job done! And on and on and on. But the loyalty extends to the stores themselves as well. There wasn't anything we could need, aside from groceries, that my mom couldn't buy at Sears. Now, granted this was back in Brady Bunch days when Sears was THE department store. Oh how I hated bra shopping at Sears. I remember going home and ripping of all the bows and daisies the makers felt compelled to adorn young teen bras with. (The only thing that ooged me out more were the old lady bras with their cotton cone shaped cup, mile wide straps and six rows of hooks.) The one exception to the Sears rule was the once a...